


Space Opera

by culturecoded



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Force Dyad (Star Wars), Insomnia, Internal Conflict, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Unresolved Romantic Tension, ben swolo makes an appearance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23175850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/culturecoded/pseuds/culturecoded
Summary: The galaxy sings together in a great choir. Though the balance can be disturbed, there will always be a way for harmony to return.--A set of Star Wars one-shots based around key signatures! Ships and additional tags will be added as they become apparent. The key signature list I'm using can be foundhere.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Space Opera

**Author's Note:**

> this happens between tlj and tros, and it's based around my own headcanon. it's mostly fighting practice, but also a study the difference between ben and kylo. i'm still grasping kylo's pov, so bear with me! that being said, enjoy!

C Minor: Declaration of love and at the same time the lament of unhappy love. All languishing, longing, sighing of the love-sick soul lies in this key.

* * *

_ I don’t want to fight her. _

The Supreme Leader’s quarters were never quiet. The walls, while made of metal, were thin, letting noise leak in constantly through the cracks. Inner mechanisms of the ship were always disturbing him: doors hissing open and shut, stormtrooper conversations, droids beeping to each other in passing. The more rhythmic sounds, like the faint slamming of pistons or distant footfall of dozens of passerby, created a mechanical ambiance that was less than ideal, but at least served as white noise.

The bunk creaked as Kylo shifted. White noise became standard; it had gotten to a point where Kylo couldn’t sleep without the sounds of the ship to keep him company. But sleep never came easy to him, and it was one of those nights where the noise became less of a comfort and more of an annoyance. 

_ I don’t want to fight her. _

And then there was  _ that _ . Force knows why it became a mantra on that particular night. It had appeared like an epiphany, one morning in a meeting when he was still Snoke’s subordinate. It was Kylo’s sworn duty to purge the girl from the galaxy, no matter what sentiment may have held him back. 

And yet.  _ I don’t want to fight her _ , some distant voice in his mind cried. That was the worst part about it; it was his original thought, with no interference from a Jedi mind trick or Snoke’s whispering. Whether he intended it or not, Kylo did not want to fight Rey.

With a growl, Kylo ripped the sheet from the bunk, and he paced his quarters. According to the timer, three of his eight resting hours had been wasted. He huffed. If only he were a droid. Maybe then he would be able to simply power down, unaffected by fickle sentiments. 

The sudden snuffing of the sounds of the ship drew Kylo out of his thoughts, as if the galaxy itself had evaporated, leaving nothing but his quarters. He swivelled, trying to figure out the angle from which she would attack. She always attacked him when they connected now, trading arguments for lightsabers, or, more often, her staff versus his fists. 

Rey wasn’t armed this time. She was curled up in his bunk, and if Kylo didn’t know any better, he would assume she was asleep. But her shoulders were tense, and she looked a bit ashamed as if she had been caught sleeping during class.

It didn’t last, though. Rey felt his presence in a matter of seconds, and she scrambled to stand. Kylo tensed into a defensive position. Though she may have been small, she always pounced first, a predator’s hunger in her eyes. She must have been trying to sleep, too; she didn’t reach for her staff or saber, and her clothing was simple, just a loose shirt and leggings. 

Her glare met Kylo’s eyes, pointedly avoiding his bare chest. He really needed to start sleeping with a shirt on. “Rough night?” Kylo muttered, knowing she wouldn’t answer. 

Kylo blocked her first uppercut on instinct. Then he dodged her left hook with a step back. Rey grit her teeth, and, as one, they Force-pushed each other, and the impact sent them both stumbling. It was so predictable now. Rey’s mannerisms had burned into Kylo’s memory, and he could predict each of her attacks as easily as breathing. Smaller and faster, Rey dashed towards him, lunging at his throat. He grabbed her thin wrists with his hands, restraining her without attacking.

He could have attacked her, then. Why didn’t he? 

Enraged, she broke his grip, spinning and landing a strike to his nose. White hot pain blinded Kylo, and he stumbled, his equilibrium thrown off. Sensing an opening, Rey pounced, grabbing his wrists. Stars and tears danced in his vision as his head collided with the floor. The resulting  _ clang _ echoed in Kylo’s head, and his eyes rolled in their sockets.

Kylo’s vision may have been recovering, but his other senses surged with adrenaline. Rey seemed at a loss. She had him pinned, and he was compromised; she could have attacked in any number of ways, but her hands stayed planting his wrists above his head, her legs tense where they straddled his hips. Her breathing was heavy with adrenaline, and Kylo could feel it on his neck, warm and uncomfortably close. When his vision swam back into focus, her hazel eyes were the first thing he saw. 

“I don’t want to fight you.”

It ripped from his chest unbidden. He had intended to keep the thought locked far away where no one could find it. Sentimentality would be punished. Snoke may not have been around anymore, but his influence still stuck with Kylo like a leech. Kylo was the Supreme Leader, and, on record, he had no need for her. 

But Rey didn’t know that, nor did she care enough to find out otherwise. She had every reason to kill him, and yet, she didn’t. Other than a stunning blow to the nose and a murderous glare that could wipe out an army, Rey didn’t do him harm. 

Her gaze dropped, eyes focused on nothing. “I don’t want to fight you either.”

Those words were a balm to Kylo’s tension, and he shut his eyes, breathing deeply. Maybe he was a fool for dropping his guard, but Rey no longer showed any sign of danger. The atmosphere shifted, and suddenly the pressure on his wrists and hips brought about a completely different type of tension, but if anything, Rey’s grip only tightened around his wrists.

“Are you afraid of me?” Kylo said, cracking an eye. Rey had turned a bright shade of red, and he fought back a snicker. 

Rey scoffed. “I could kill you right now. I have no reason to be afraid of you.” 

“You won’t kill me. It’s not the Jedi way.” Kylo tilted his head. “Have you started your real training? It’s rotten work, I’ll warn you.”

“I’m not telling you anything,” Rey growled, leaning closer to his face. It was intended to be intimidating, but it only caused color to rush to his face. He desperately hoped she didn’t notice. 

Against his better judgement, Kylo decided to push further. “It would be best for you to kill me and get it over with. Save yourself the trouble later on. Don’t you remember,” he lifted his head, his voice dipping to a venomous level, “I can take whatever I want?” 

Rey grit her teeth, but said nothing. His words had the intended effect; the tension was palpable, but whether it was between enemies or something else, neither of them were quite sure. Rey’s eyes narrowed. “Why didn’t you attack me?” she asked, her tone suggesting she was afraid of the answer.

“I’m tired of fighting you. I don’t want to hurt you, not anymore. Ever since Starkiller, the idea of hurting you makes me sick to my stomach.”

“Oh, but hunting down the Resistance is fine, right?” Rey’s blunt nails dug into his wrists. “Why am I different? Why do I matter to you?”

Why was she different? Oh, if only Kylo could answer her honestly. If only he could put into words the feeling of  _ belonging _ she brought him, the exhilarating feeling of being understood that he had never felt before. The Force truly was a cruel mistress to put them on opposing sides of a war. If only she would join him. Or he would join her.

He shook that thought away as quickly as it appeared. For infinite reasons, they would never be on the same side. 

“Anyone else would have killed me by now,” Kylo said, voice barely above a whisper. “That’s what makes you different. Everyone else gave up on me. You haven’t.”

Rey blinked. “Not by choice,” she said, but her tone was less certain, and her gaze dropped as if connecting mental dots.

“If you had the choice, would you leave? Sever the connection, never speak to me again unless our sabers are crossed? Kill me in front of your Resistance and become the hero everyone wants you to be?” Kylo knew he sounded desperate, vulnerable, but an insane part of him didn’t care. He needed the answer.

But before Kylo could think, his vision blurred, and he was thrown into a consciousness that was not his own. 

Loneliness was no stranger to him. This was different. This loneliness blistered like the desert sun, like the desperation of a child fighting for her life day after day for eternity, trapped in purgatory for fifteen years. Power she didn’t realize she had, didn’t know how to control. The sand was everywhere, all-consuming, and he wanted to sink into it, to drown in it—

Rey collapsed, rolling off him onto the cool metal floor, and Kylo snapped out of his trance, turning to her. Whatever that was, it must’ve happened to her, too. What had she seen? 

“No, I wouldn’t,” Rey breathed.

“You’re not the only lonely person in the galaxy, Rey.” Kylo rested the back of his hand against the floor. Gently, she reached out, connecting their palms. Her hand was calloused, yet soft, buffed by the sands of Jakku yet abrasive to the touch. 

She broke eye contact, parted her lips, and she was gone.

Kylo brought the heel of his hand to his face, wiping a tear he hadn’t realized he shed. How could they just keep fighting? How could he fight Rey, having seen even a sliver of the labyrinth of her past? How could he even want to have someone like her on his side, when she wanted so desperately to be human, not a cog in the machine of the Order?

Kylo Ren would not throw the Order away for one person. He  _ wouldn’t _ . Not for himself, not for his mother, and certainly not for Rey. 

But Ben Solo just might. And that shook him to his very core. 

**Author's Note:**

> just to clarify, this series won't be only reylo! it'll be stuff from all over the star wars universe. i'll add other tags/ships/sources when they become relevant. i'm planning on some stormpilot, hanleia, anidala, a sprinkle of skysolo, and maybe gingerpilot if i'm brave enough, plus some individual character studies. stay tuned if you're interested!


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